


Home Sweet Home

by PastPresentFiction



Category: Rampage (2018)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Original Character(s), Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-27 22:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30129954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastPresentFiction/pseuds/PastPresentFiction
Summary: Agent Harvey Russell seems like such a swagger laden, answer for almost everything badass, doesn't he?Well if he's the guy that they call when science shits the bed to change the sheets, who changes the sheets on the home front?Meet Dr. Everlea Grace Russell, the woman who married our favorite Agent from the "OGA".  It takes a certain type of woman to deal with a man like Harvey.
Relationships: Harvey Russell/Original Female Character
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Standard Disclaimer: I own NOTHING. I make NOTHING from this. 
> 
> This may or may not go on, no clue, it was a bug of an inspiration that's been nagging me for a minute or a thousand. I really wanted to do MORE with Harvey Russell and I don't know if this is the ONE or not. We'll see.

I’d been waiting for HOURS. Hours and hours on what started as pins and needles, but were now more like daggers. I knew he was alive and that he was safe. I could pinpoint that man across the globe in the worst possible conditions, in the worst damn camera feeds that any amateur uploaded to any news site.

This had been HUGE, pardon the damn pun, given the size of the animals that destroyed Chicago. And so had the coverage and the leaked camera phone footage, uploaded, shared across platforms, and looped from the first moment that the first sighting occurred. And Harvey had been smack dab in the middle of it, because of course he would be.

What was his favorite line? The one he’d used to pick me up so long ago, when the world wasn’t in the midst of a disaster of epic proportions, but he seemed to want to prove what a big man he was to go with that smug swagger of his.

“When science shits the bed, I’m the guy they call to change the sheets,” he’d been grinning that brilliant white smile of his, dimples peeking at me like a little boy telling me a secret and I was lost.

He’d been in the ER at the time, covered in God knew what and a heavy dose of his own blood, but he still had it in him to flirt. Agent Harvey Russell of that “Other Government Agency”, wink wink - nod nod -, and he had me from the moment he tossed out that line of malarkey loaded with a smile that nearly knocked my panties off. Pretty neat trick given I was the attending physician at the time.

Six years, untold moments of science shitting the proverbial bed and calling Harvey in to change those damn sheets, and I had never felt so on edge. Maybe it was the fact that now, more than ever before, everyone seemed to be filming every damn moment of every damn day of their lives. That meant that every angle of Chicago and the chaos that Harvey was right smack dab in the center of was locked and loaded for my viewing pleasure from the first to the last moment.

I was used to chaos. It was part and parcel with my job, for goodness sake, but I challenge anyone to have your attention drawn to a television or computer screen where the love of your life is standing covered in debris and blood, while animals the size of monsters only ever seen in old school Science Fiction movies battled for supremacy and remain calm.

His call coming through to assure me he was fine didn’t help. Another a few hours later to say he was on his way home barely slowed down my pulse a few beats. And that’s how he found me, on edge, waiting for him as his key finally found its home in the lock on our door.

“Thought I told you not to wait up,” he sounded as exhausted as a man who survived a plane crash, a three way throw down between obscenely oversized animals in the midst of a major US city, and the aftermath might sound. He’d managed to close the door and was leaning against it, still upright, but only just.

“Thought I told you there was a reason I left out the ‘obey’ in our wedding vows,” I reminded him, moving closer, needing to see for myself that he was in one perfect piece.

He was still covered in dust. His black suit jacket was almost grey with it. Fighting against the urge to brush it off, reminding myself that the dust was the least of what could be wrong with my darling husband, I tilted my head back and sighed. The side of his head had taken a hit, but at least he’d allowed someone to bandage it. The bandage would need to be changed, since it was coated in the same dirt and grime as his clothing, and I could also see the blood from his wound seeping through. Aside from that, I couldn’t SEE any other marks on his face, but that was the only skin he had visible.

His lips quirked and I knew precisely what was coming. “All you have to do is ask, darlin’.” If I was completely sure he didn’t have any internal injuries, I’d smack him, but the fact that he’d allowed someone to bandage his head wound didn’t mean he’d allowed anyone to do a full physical. “In fact, after the day I’ve had, getting down to the skin with you sounds about like heaven.”

“Flirting with me right now, Harvey,” I muttered, stepping closer despite how clipped my tone came out - because I needed to be sure of him. Of the reality of him. “You’re not going to distract me.”

His head fell forward, closing the gap between us caused by our height difference, and I sighed at the warmth of his breath against my face. He was home. He was here and he was at least alive. “I know, honey, I know.” Brushing my nose with his, not quite an Eskimo kiss, but close enough to get me to smile. “Didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“I know.” My fingers had found his belt buckle while the closeness of him worked some magic to calm me slightly. I was happy that he’d locked his gun in the safe we kept in the garage, he had a safe in the house too, but he was clearly prepared for the examination he knew was coming. I made quick work of the buckle, the belt, then the button and zipper. As his pants started to fall, Harvey found his voice again.

“Where’s the other woman of the house?” A soft chuckle from me, I knew he’d want to check on her as much as I’d need to do a thorough check-up of his physical state.

“She’s been in bed since 8,” right after she’d seen Harvey with the ‘big monee’ on the television and said ‘nigh-nigh’ to him on the phone. “We’ll make sure she’s still sleeping before I tuck you in.”

“Do I get a bath first?” His pants were kicked off, with all the grace that his three-year old daughter had when she got ready for a bath. I nearly fell over with him, since he was still close to me, as he tried to untangle his boots, pants, and boxers while staying within touching distance of me. “Sorry,” that grin, still half boyish-half temptation, had me sighing and laughing.

“You can have a bath as long as you don’t end up giving us both a concussion getting your clothes off, you damn fool.” I shook my head and started to step back, but his arms pulled me back. “Harvey, how are you planning on getting your shirt, tie, and jacket off with me in the way?”

“We’ll figure something out,” he murmured, eyes locked on mine, softened by the safety of being home and the comfort of being together. His lips met mine and I knew he was right, we’d figure it out. We always did.

Harvey had bruises. Of course he had bruises, he ended up doing an unplanned parachute landing out of a plane. He also had a very long day involving a shit ton of other situations that honestly sounded like it would have worked better for a script out of Hollywood, or maybe a video game.

We were in our bathtub, he insisted on holding me, once I was satisfied he was in working order. Warm water, a cold beer for him and an iced tea for me, he was chuckling as I told him about our little girl seeing her Daddy on TV.

“I thought she was going to jump into the screen.” I snuggled into his chest, feeling far more relaxed now that I knew he was completely healthy. His laughter was rippling the water and vibrating through my body. “No mean feat since we have the damn thing hung on the wall above MY head.”

“Aria was excited to see me, was she?” His lips were cool from the bottle he was drinking from, and they felt decadent against my temple. “Tempted to wake her up so I can tell her all about George.”

“She’d love that,” I was smiling at how she’d squealed about the ‘monee’, the albino gorilla hadn’t scared her, not during the scenes that had me clutching throw pillows or afterward as the dust cleared and I could make out her Daddy in the rubble. “She broke into tears when he stopped moving for that clutch of time.”

Harvey’s fingers slid down my arms, making me think that perhaps Aria wasn’t getting a wake-up call tonight. At least not before her Mommy got a little personal attention. His lips, still chilled, were sliding lower too, teasing gooseflesh down my cheek and moving with a precision only he knew toward my most sensitive spots. “George has a -” he stopped as his lips landed on a spot that made me whimper and he focused on it, even as his fingers were sliding down my arms, then under the water to my waist. His lips curled into a smile against my pulse, but his teeth were busy grazing the spot, and my breath left me. “Funny sense of humor,” he mumbled, the words uttered creating a new sensation, the gasp giving me fresh air. “Here or -”

Bed, that was where. He didn’t really have to ask, but he did have to do most of the work since the man basically rendered me physically more useless than he’d been when he walked in the house.


	2. Chapter 2

Harvey’s strength always surprised me. Long and lean, his ability to pick me up as if I weighed less than our daughter had when she came screaming out of me to breathe her first mouthful of fresh air would forever amaze me.

“You’re lookin’ at me like you've never seen me before, Ever.” His eyes, ever changing shades of browns, were locked on mine and like melted chocolate as he hovered over me where he’d carefully laid me on our bed. Fingers as slender and long as his body was, calloused from his hands on approach to life, but somehow still managing to be sweet and slow, patient and calm words that on first sight no one would use to describe Harvey.

I worried my lip, trying desperately to find the words, words to explain to him why it felt like I was seeing him for the very first time. Why tonight, of all nights, was different. My own hands, shorter, stubbier fingers, nails kept trim because scratching my patients would be hurtful on different levels, rose up to cup the sharp plains of his cheeks. Thumbs brushing over the stubble that we ignored during our bath, his eyes flickered closed while I took my time reminding myself of every whisker, every scar, every dip, and every tiny perfect imperfection on his face.

“Harvey Russell,” I breathed his name like it was part prayer, part plea. And he answered it, his lips meeting mine, tasting me and letting me taste him.

What others see when they meet my husband, what I saw the first time I laid eyes on him, is a man who is tall and thin. Angular, fierce, calm, smug, radiating a strength that you can’t quite put your finger on where it emanates from, but knowing it’s present. Harvey Russell is a force, just as powerful as those he’s sent to put a pin in, and he’s certain of himself. And he’s sex on two legs, that’s been evident from the moment he threw out that damn line in the hospital as I was put through the paces as the attending physician.

Now, as his fingers slid down the length of me, teasing my skin while our mouths fought to keep the noises we could push from one another with little urging to a dull roar, even with the well insulated walls and the door closed, taking chances that a three year old wouldn’t hear her parents having nighttime fun without her is never a chance any parent is willing to take, our bodies fell into a rhythm we’d known from the first touch.

How he’d known that light works at the start, but as the pressure builds inside, Harvey’s grasp on my skin, along my hips, my waist, his nails could come along for the ride too, could press harder that he needn’t worry about bruises or marks. That I wouldn’t break or cry out, he seemed to read me like a book, unsurprised when I wanted more. Harder and faster, when I would roll him onto his back because I needed to take control, he’d pull his mouth free and tease me with some throw away comment about not being a bottom.

“Shut up, Harvey,” I’d mutter, biting his lower lip and grinning as he laughed. If I wasn’t afraid of marks, the same could be said about my husband with a vengeance. Where mine weren’t something I considered, for Harvey they were worn with pride. Men, I’d say, in the cold light of morning when he’d point out the scratch marks on his ribs, rolling my eyes, but my smile bright as the sun.

We took a good portion of the night, longer than normal to satisfy my longing for him, my craving for his body and for the proof that he was alive and safe. By the time we were finished, worn out and needing another bath, but too damn tired to even contemplate it, his bandage needed changing. I rolled over, opening the small drawer by our bed and pulled one out.

“Marrying a doctor has its perks,” he was smiling as he sighed, settled back on the pile of pillows on ‘his’ side of the bed. “Do you have an entire damn first aid kit over there, Everlea?” I shook my head and ripped the bloodied bandage I’d put on before our bath free, causing a flinch from him for his impertinence.

“I have a toddler and a three year old little girl,” I grinned down while I reapplied the medicated pad to his tender wound. While I’d torn the dirty one off, I took more care with the application of the new, leaning forward and kissing it gently. “There, you even get a kiss.”

“Not exactly where I wanted it,” his hands were sliding up my bare back, through my hair and cupping my head. Our faces were nose to nose again, eyes locked on one another. “I don’t know if I tell you enough, but I love you, Everlea Grace.”

Giving him a real Eskimo kiss, brushing our noses back and forth, like Aria insisted on at least three times a day, I leaned closer and kissed him deeply. When I pulled away, shifting so I could get comfortable in the crook of his arm, with my head against his chest, I was still smiling. Content, finally, that all was right in my world. “I love you too, Harvey.” His long arm reached out to flick off his bedside lamp, the last light in our room, and we whispered our goodnights.


End file.
